


The Spy Who Bought Me Curtains

by readfah_cwen



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Seblaine Week 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/pseuds/readfah_cwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sebastian and Blaine play house, Santana thinks they aren't much of a couple, and a garden gnome is in the middle of the (literal) crossfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spy Who Bought Me Curtains

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Seblaine Week 2013](http://seblaineweek2013.tumblr.com/post/48511200973/so-here-it-comes-the-plan-of-the-week-i) Day 3: Living Together. Much thanks to my ever-lovely beta pletzel, without whom this wouldn't have been posted.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Gun use.

“Sebastian, we’re out of milk.” Blaine stared into the fridge. His fingers tapped out a familiar rhythm against the fridge door. “And butter, ketchup, jam, fruits, vegetables, yoghurt …”

“Really? That last one is a necessity?” Sebastian set down the papers he was studying, matching Blaine’s rhythm.

“Point is, we don’t have anything to eat.” Blaine shut the fridge. “We need to go shopping, honey.”

“We need to save our money, _dear_ ,” Sebastian replied. “We need a fumigator.”

“Saw another bug?” Blaine asked. Sebastian nodded.

“Right here. It crawled under the fridge.” He set the papers on a shallow metal dish on the table he was sitting at.

“Gross.” Blaine opened a drawer and pulled out a matchbook, tossing it to Sebastian who caught it neatly.

“Very gross.” Sebastian lit the match, and dropped it on the papers, watching the growing flames with a smirk. He glanced over at Blaine who still had the drawer open, reaching in and twisting his hand up as if searching the bottom of the counter. As the smoke reached the fire alarm and it began to beep urgently, Blaine pulled out a gun.

Sebastian got to his feet, joining Blaine and accepting his own gun. Both now armed, they moved into the living room, the alarm still blaring behind them. They took a spot on either side of their home’s serene front window, its lacy curtains fluttering gently in a night breeze.

_**BEEP** _

Blaine held up three fingers, and let one drop down.

_**BEEP** _

Another. Blaine dropped his second finger.

_**BEEP** _

The last finger went down, and Sebastian brought his hand out in an arc to smash apart the window’s glass. Then Blaine took position and fired at a line of armed men in flak jackets who were creeping up their perfectly kept front lawn. One man went down; the rest immediately dived behind the white picket fence, setting their semi-automatic rifles to face the house and firing at Blaine’s figure at the window. Blaine rolled back against the wall, and Sebastian poked his head out to fire a few shots as well. A bird feeder hanging from their tree exploded, raining seeds; one of the men cried out, shoulder jerking back, but stayed up.

“Don’t hit the gnome!” Blaine warned. The garden gnome was by the base of the tree, where Blaine had lovingly placed it some months ago.

“It’s my top priority,” Sebastian replied, not hiding his amusement. He peeked past the shredded curtains, a bullet flying dangerously close to his nose. “Four left, baby,” Sebastian said as he took cover again.

“Let’s take care of them quick, darling.” Blaine ducked as a hail of bullets smashed into the house, breaking the photographs lining the wall. “The grocery store closes soon.”

There was a lull in enemy fire. With a shared smirk, they peered out the window and fired.

\--

“So …” Santana considered them, Sebastian sporting a bullet graze wrapped in gauze and Blaine with an ice pack against his knee. “Five enemy down, a compromised house, a whole lot of neighbours who need to be fed a story about a _nail gun explosion_ , and we still don’t have any idea of where the head guy is? You two couldn’t have fucked this up worse.”

“To be fair,” Blaine said. “I don’t think Sebastian and I make for a very convincing couple. They could probably tell right away at the country club something was off.” Sebastian nodded his agreement, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He liked to hit on the waiter at the club while Blaine pretended to be interested in cigar brands.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. You said you could handle undercover. This is what undercover is.”

“And believe me, I’ve been enjoying it, with my spousal groping privileges,” Sebastian said.

“He wishes he had those.” Blaine crossed his arms. “See? Unbelievable. We don’t know how to do it.”

“And it’s a good fucking thing, misters Bumbling--” she pointed to Sebastian, “--and Virgin--” to Blaine. “Because you know the rules. Fall for each other for real while working together...”

“And never work together again,” Sebastian and Blaine intoned together, Sebastian in boredom, Blaine with a serious nod. They were the best team at the agency, no way they’d waste that on a quick shag in a helicopter on way to a mission. (That was how Santana and her now-retired girlfriend Brittany had been caught. She was something of an expert on the subject, and best at giving the speech.)

“Aww,” Santana cooed with bright sarcasm. “Keep that synchronism up, and you’ll be the best fake cutesy-wutesy couple _ever_.”

“Wait.” Sebastian’s head lifted. “We’re still on the case.”

“Uh. _Yeah_.”

“You said we messed it all up.” Blaine blinked.

“So imagine the reaction of whoever it is when you walk into that club acting like nothing’s changed.”

Sebastian and Blaine shared a look.

“Good thinking,” Blaine told her.

“Like I need you to tell me that. You morons would be nowhere without me.” She pointed to the door. “Now get the fuck out of here. Stay in a hotel room tonight while your home gets fixed up and swept of bugs. Then it’s back to golfing with the bigshots.” They nodded, getting to their feet. “And guys? Try to not mow anymore people down in residential streets. It makes the department look bad.”

“There goes our family bonding time,” Sebastian replied.

“Divorce is imminent,” Blaine added.

Santana flapped her hands at them, and laughing, the two left.

\--

The hotel room was surprisingly nice, with a flatscreen tv and two twin beds. Blaine dropped onto his with a sigh, and rolled over to watch Sebastian try and make himself a coffee. Try being the operative word; if anything had really tipped someone off that they weren’t who they said they were (Mr and Mr Smith, and yes, that was Santana’s little joke) it was Sebastian’s complete failure at domestic tasks. Apparently, going straight from privileged money to isolated spy training did that to a guy.

Blaine’s childhood hadn’t been much better, raised by two agents and moved all around the world growing up, but he at least knew how to work a coffee maker. So, with a groan, he got up and joined Sebastian by the machine. “Here, let me,” Blaine said, gently pushing at Sebastian’s hands before they broke the lid trying to get it to open.

“I can do it,” Sebastian grunted. “Children manage this.”

“What kids do you know that drink coffee?” Sebastian shot him a stink-eye, but Blaine continued. “Have you ever even _met_ a kid before?”

“You’re right, I’m just assuming,” Sebastian said, which was oddly conciliatory, until he added, “I assumed that since it stunts growth, guys like you have been drinking it from the cradle.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Blaine grabbed Sebastian’s wrist in a firm grip. “C’mon, honey, let me make you it. You can shower first.”

“Fine.” Sebastian’s love of showers was one Blaine had learned a long time ago. “You do that. It better be good.” And then he stalked off to the bathroom. Blaine watched him go, then came around to make the coffee. By the time Sebastian was done and it was Blaine’s turn to shower, a hot cup of joe awaited him. 

“It’s good,” Sebastian said after taking a sip. Blaine smiled, and left him to it. 

\-- 

That night, in the quiet darkness, Blaine slipped out of his bed and joined Sebastian in his. 

“Santana probably has this place bugged,” Sebastian quietly said, shuffling over. There really wasn’t room for the both of them; Sebastian’s feet were sticking over the edge. 

“We’re practicing being more convincing,” Blaine murmured back sleepily, draping an arm around Sebastian’s waist. 

“You just miss sleeping with me.” 

“Well, it’s not the same without our marriage bed …” Blaine rested his head on Sebastian’s shoulder, curling in close. “But yeah, I do.” 

“You’re so sappy.” Sebastian pet absently at Blaine's still-damp curls, then stopped himself. “Go to sleep.” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

\-- 

Santana’s plan worked. (“Of course it did, I’m the brains of this operation,” their handler would say, tossing her hair perfectly over her shoulder.) When Blaine and Sebastian entered the club wearing their neatly pressed polos and Blaine a sweatervest, well-creased slacks hiding small pistols strapped to their ankles, Mrs Mulroney looked up sharply. She hid any shock well, but when she politely excused herself from her fellow ladies’ tea to powder her nose Blaine followed. He left Sebastian at the bar, chatting up the handsome bartender. 

Mrs Mulroney was making a discreet call in the washroom. Blaine let the door shut silently behind him, hiding behind a curve in the wall. “You were supposed to mow the lawn, Frank!” 

Frank was the second-in-command; surveillance of him had led to the club, but they hadn’t been able to tell which member of the exclusive place was pulling the strings of the criminal empire. 

“Well, the weeds are still here--” 

“Weeds? That’s very rude.” Blaine stepped out from the behind the wall. She jumped, turning to face him with coldly narrowed eyes. “I thought we were friends, Anna.” 

“Of course we are, Blaine,” she replied, sugar sweet. “Excuse me, I’m on the phone with my gardener.” 

“I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt.” With a smile, he dropped to his knees and pulled out his gun. He had it pointed at her before she knew what was happening. He knew it was only a matter of time before Frank sent reinforcements, and it was important he neutralise her now. “I’m sorry, Anna, but you’re going to have to leave your tea early.” 

“How rude,” she said, nose lifting. “And after I made that rhubarb pie for you and Sebastian, too.” 

“It was a little dry,” Blaine retorted. She was stalling. Blaine gestured with his free hand, gun steady, indicating she should start heading for the door. She went gracefully, as if there wasn’t a gun on her. 

Blaine held the door open and gestured for her to go first. As she passed through the doorway he followed closely, gun held steady, and he caught the slightest trace of triumph on her face. By the time he turned, instinct warning, a kick to his wrist had him fumbling his gun. He caught it, but another kick followed, and he stumbled back to see the waiter Sebastian had been fond of flirting with. 

The guy made a beckoning gesture with his hand (and really, who did that outside cheesy action flicks?) but Blaine was distracted by a sound behind him. Risking a glance, he saw the bartender sending Mrs Mulroney to safety. 

Well, shit. 

Blaine turned back to his immediate threat, ready to face off, only to find Sebastian coming up fast. He smirked at the waiter, who sneered back, and then his expression wasn’t much at all because he went down like a bag of bricks at Sebastian’s swift hit to the back of his neck. 

“You really know how to pick ‘em,” Blaine said, nodding at the waiter. 

“Please. As if any real waiter would stick his thumb in my drink."  Sebastian nudged him. “Where’s Mulroney?” 

“Leaving out back with the bartender--” 

“He who packs heat while serving mint juleps.” 

“--and I bet Frank’s got a car waiting for her.” 

“Let’s offer to drive her, poor old thing.” Sebastian freed his own gun then headed down the hall to the fire exit, Blaine at his side. Sharing a look, they kicked it open together. 

Yeah, they had the synchronism down pat. 

\-- 

Naturally they caught her, because they were the best, and a call to Santana got Frank in cuffs too. After that it was statements, signing some forms, and their three-month undercover mission was over. So it was Mr Anderson and Mr Smythe, not Mr and Mr Smith, who arrived back at the lovely suburban home that night to pack up. 

“They’re going to make us move out in the morning,” Blaine said. “But do you think they would notice if I took the gnome?” They were on the swingseat on the porch, gazing out at the front lawn, a sight blissfully unobstructed by enemy fire. 

“What would you do with a gnome?” 

“Decorate?” 

“Those things are terrifying. Don't do it.” 

“It would just be on the balcony. He could scare off pigeons!” 

“Get shit on, more like.” 

Blaine nudged Sebastian, who laughed and wrapped an arm around him. “You’re terrible,” Blaine complained, snuggling closer. “Don’t you find him the littlest bit cute?” 

“There’s only one thing in this world I find the littlest bit cute, and it’s not a fat old man riding a snail.” 

“And what would that be?” Blaine asked, a bit teasingly, eyebrows raised. Sebastian’s only response was to kiss Blaine, but he didn’t need to say anything. Wearing a self-satisfied smile as they separated, Blaine shrugged. “Well, I’m taking the gnome.” 

“Don’t I get a say in this? It is my apartment too.” 

Thank god Santana had removed the enemy’s bugs. And thank god Sebastian and Blaine had sat away from the ones she had put in their place. 

“Not in the eyes of the law, so I have legal garden gnome privileges in this case.” Blaine grinned cheekily, and Sebastian shook his head. 

“Fine. It’s fair, I suppose. We’ll both bring something back.” 

“What? The polos?” 

“Hmm.” Sebastian shifted, dug into his pocket, and pulled out the lube they had bought to ‘keep up appearances.’ “This is all I need.” 

“You do make a convincing argument.” Blaine kissed him again, and they would have gotten caught up in it if their phones didn’t beep. Checking his, he found a coded message from Santana that said to head out to the airstrip, because a helicopter was waiting to take them to their next mission. He groaned. Couldn’t they have _one_ day off? 

He glanced at Sebastian, who looked as if he was turning something over in his head. When he saw Blaine looking, he smirked, so much suggestion in one look. Oh no, he couldn’t be thinking of-- 

“No, absolutely not--” 

“We could be sneakier than Santana--” 

“Absolutely _not_.” 

“Are you sure …” 

“ _Absolutely not_.” 

In the end they didn’t, because they were the best team in the world, but Blaine also missed his chance to get the gnome because crime waited on no man’s sidetrip to his quaint little apartment to drop off lawn decorations. Two weeks and one busted drug cartel later they finally got that day off, and as Blaine mixed drinks while he kept an eye on dessert in the oven, Sebastian came back with DVD rentals and Chinese food. 

And? Blaine’s gnome. 

Because they were the best team in the world.

_fin_  


**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/52262575166/the-spy-who-bought-me-curtains-seblaine-1-1)


End file.
